


Dear John

by PepperSky



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Canada, Canon Divergent, Canon Typical Violence, Commonwealth, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Ghouls, Grief, Montreal, New factions, Québec, Slow Burn, anti-Brotherhood of Steel, institute, railroad, suicidal content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25798231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperSky/pseuds/PepperSky
Summary: Before the bombs dropped in 2077, America took over Canada in search of more oil and uranium during the energy crisis. Canada could hardly stop their sweeping force. Riots and protests were repressed with swift violence. With the threat of nuclear war and total distrust of American companies, a collection of scientists and CEO’s decided to create their own safe haven from nuclear fire. 200 years later, out comes Lilith Blaire, a hell-raising survivalist in search of tech to sustain her home and restore Quebec to it’s former Glory. But when she runs to the Commonwealth, she learns that there’s a society like her’s, doing heinous crimes. Will she be won over with science, or will her questionable moral compass guide her to destroy it? Will she leave Massachusetts as a nuclear crater, or call it her new home? And who is this junkie trying to turn himself into a ghoul?
Relationships: John Hancock/Female Character, John Hancock/Original Character, John Hancock/Sole Survivor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Preface/prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I write fan fiction, I tend to take the story into unexplored possibilities. What if someone found John Hancock before he took the ghoulification drug? What happened to Canada after the pre-war Canadian Annexation? Why can’t the institute be taken over? Why didn’t more people create bunkers? Was Robert House really the only person skeptical of vault-tec and aware of the nuclear annihilation? This canon divergent story aims to correct some missing features of the game... and give our favorite ghoul mayor some love!

She enters through the decontamination process, shucking her equipment in the bins for cleaning later. Her undershirt and shorts become mildly soaked in the process, clinging onto her skin. The smell is that of antiseptic and chemicals, diluted down with just a little bit of water. It’s necessary to wash of the dirt of the wasteland before entering again. Who knows what radioactive material or mutated germ she could carry into the gate. The quarantine process will be a little lonely, but it’s ever so necessary to keep this community thriving. 

She’s directed into the holding cell, fitting with those microphones as if it were a prison. It’s ingenious, allowing her to communicate with others through this process. However, it was only a recent addition, made per her request. “Lilly, you’re back,” the man across from her says, enthusiastically. Every time she came home, he was always so happy to see her back. The wastes are a scary place. Although he hates to see her go and hates to think about what would happen if she never came back, he knows he can’t keep her here. “What’d you find? Anything interesting?” 

“Hm… other than guns and some minor scientific info, not much. There isn’t too much left out there 200 years later you know. The stuff we need has been relatively untouched,” she started. “I might have to go further south and do some vault hunting.”

She swallowed hard and instinctively touches her abdomen. The last vault hunt was scarring to say the least. No, really. She was gravely hurt by a horrible creature mutated beyond recognition by FEV. Since then, she’s so much more cold to him. The walls of their bunker reminds her of what happened. She never stays too long, always bounding at the chance to leave and explore. Most would kill to live the kushy life in the facility. Science flourishes, electricity is abundant, radiation free water flows through the pipes, and there’s even a growing facility for rad-free food. It’s paradise to everyone but her. She’s addicted to the adrenaline rush the outside world offers; the vast expanse of untouched knowledge sleeping in pre-war terminals, the danger lurking around every corner, the chance to constantly test her wit and charisma. She’s smart enough to become a researcher in the facility, but that’s not what she wants. 

“Lilith, you’ve done enough, can’t you rest her for awhile?” He pleads. It’s pointless, he knows. There’s no shame in trying. She gives him a vacant stare. 

“No,” she rejects. “Besides, you know I have to keep running the Battalion. Canada needs us. Besides, hows the research on clean energy?” 

“Fine,” he responds dryly. “We’ve increased efficiency of converting fusion cells to cores.” 

“And the research on the ‘new plague’?” 

He sighs, knowing that his answer will drive her away again. “A research facility in what was once Massachusetts is the last known place experiments took place. We can get someone to run down.” 

Her hazel eyes glint with excitement and mischief. “Mass, huh? I haven’t been out of the Mont’ in awhile,” she says. “Besides, you know I’m the most thorough of my crew. I think I’ll pay a visit.”


	2. Commonwealth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith finally arrives at the commonwealth, already meeting with an interesting character. It’s never a good idea to travel alone! ....Right?

It took her a little over a month to traverse down to Massachusetts, or what is left of it. She took a vertibird to the edge of the Battalion’s territory to ease the trip, much to the dismay of her council. They know it’s good for morale to see one of their leaders ruffing it up in the wasteland, doing their part too. But damn, do they hate sending her out. She’s reckless, borderline insane, with a good head on her shoulders. The rush of exploring calls to her, and they know they cannot hold her back from the call. 

She remembers the look of the pilots face, looking at her in awe and in honor to transport her there. She didn’t know how nervous he was to ensure the ride was as smooth as possible and impress her, hoping for a promotion in rank. “Nice job, pilot. Ease up on the throttle next time,” she said to him as she tossed him a bag of caps. 

But she’s here now, looking up at the facility. Mass seems fairly untouched by the bombs, minus that weird radiation pooling southwest. Perhaps there’s a bomb impact ‘round there. The Boston area is bustling with activity, yet this place is eerily quiet, untouched. The building groans slightly against the wind that rustles through. It’s rather cold this time of the year, but not as harsh as Mont. Still, it’s enough to usher her inside to hide from the bitter chill. The inside of the facility is dilapidated, as per usual. Some stairs have collapsed, ceiling panels are scattered on the floor, a light coat of rust, dirt, dust, and other questionable materials coat some surfaces. Surprisingly, it seems as if it’s already cleared out, evident by the corpses of bloodied ferals on the floor and the broken boards on the side entrance. The smell of decay hasn’t yet filled the air. It’s clear this was recent. 

She unholsters her silenced pistol from its home on her hip and holds her breath, trying to listen for any sound. The place is quiet as far as she can tell. Maybe there’s a little rustling going on farther away, but if there is, it’s either undetectable or blends in with the natural creaking of the building. Still slightly on edge, she resolves the nerve to release her breath and make her way to the reception terminal. She hacks into it with ease and shoved her pip boy wire in the necessary slot, downloading relevant information. Luckily, a map of the place is within the terminal, indicating the research took place in the basement. She hopes she’s in the right facility. Boston is a big place, with danger and scrap lying around every corner. The pre-war maps couldn’t prepare her for the maze that exists here. 

She makes her way further in the facility, searching for a way downstairs. Of course, it proves moderately difficult, with having to step over corpses, collapsed rubble, and squeeze through small gaps in the walls. Some entrances are either blocked off or lead to a mess of debris. However, all the places she goes, the death proceeds her. Someone was here, recently, and might be after the same thing she is. She grits her teeth and tries to move as quickly and quietly as she can, preparing herself to get the jump on him. 

She’s almost to the basement facility before she hears some rustling coming from the floor beneath her. She dives into the shadows and peers through a hole in the floor, providing her at least a glimpse of who’s here. All she can tell is that it looks like a man with some blonde hair. There’s some blood flecks in his hair, though he doesn’t eclipse her line of sight so she can get a look at his face. He’s not outrageously armed, nor does he have the appearance of a raider. She holds her breath as he almost looks through the hole in the floor, before deciding to rummage through cabinets. Lilith stays curled in the shadows, her heart beating hard. She feels almost high and excited, riding the rush of danger. 

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” he says. Evidently, he seems to have found something pleasing to him. Paired with the rattling of what she assumes is pills, she can only assume he’s just a junky. A little bit later he seems to have gone elsewhere, giving her a chance to access a research terminal. She skims it quickly and disappointment rises in her. She’s at the wrong damn place. Instead, all that’s here is a radiation drug called 2C-A. Still, it could be good for research, she bargains with herself. She’s trying to convince herself to storm down and take at least something that could be of use. Lilith hates to leave empty handed. 

After some moments arguing with herself, she resolves the nerve to slink downstairs, preparing for confrontation with the junkie. “He better not shoot me on site,” she whispers to herself. 

Instead of confrontation, however, she finds him slumped on the floor, slowly injecting himself with a drug. A drug labeled 2C-A. The fool is trying to get high with it. She doesn’t know him, but she knows that he probably shouldn’t go out like this. The guy probably doesn’t even know it could kill him, or best case scenario, turn him into a ghoul. She picks up a nearby can and aims for the syringe. 

The can goes flying and collides with the man’s hand, startling him enough to knock it out of his hand. He stares in confusion, looking everywhere but seeing nothing. He knows no one else but him was in here, unless it’s a feral ghoul he missed. But he doesn’t care anymore, not now. Even if it is a feral, it won’t be long until he’s a ghoul as well. Better yet, he doesn’t even care if it’ll kill him. He feels worse than nothing, after just standing by as those people were kicked out of diamond city. He can’t stand looking at himself. 

“I’m already tripping, huh,” he chalks it up. 

“You’re not,” Lilith says, making herself known. 

“Oh yeah, it’s happening,” he says. He barks out a laugh. “Already hearing shit.” His vision begins to blur and a rush of euphoria overtakes him, filling him with a stinging warmth. He sees distortions in his vision, occasionally seeing flecks of color and shapes. An attractive woman’s face peers around the corner of a cabinet. She looks like something out of a Nuka-Cola poster. Dark cherry red locks framing her face and cascading down like ripples of cola. Pale skin with freckles and big hazel-blue eyes peeping straight through his soul. 

“Hey, pretty daydream,” he purs. She tilts her head and approaches him, not knowing that he’s already melting his mind on the drug. She doesn’t respond, further solidifying the idea in his head that she’s nothing more than a mirage. Her face becomes blurry here and there and he can only focus on her hair. She’s so close it feels like he could touch her, but he knows better than to try. Best to just ride out these hallucinations. 

“I’m a doc-“ she says, the ending of her sentence becoming distorted. The room begins to spin and he can feel his body going numb. He hears a muffled voice, but he’s too busy basking in the ride to care much more of his hallucinations. 

“I’ll patch you up, don’t worry,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond to her sentences and she chalks it up to the effects of the drug. She begins to make quick work, taking out her medical supplies and preparing to treat him the best she can. She’s thankful to herself for bringing along the experimental radiation prevention drugs that the facility recently put out. It’s able to clear far more rads and infuse cells with a protective layer of acids, preventing mutations and radiation damage. The only caveat? It feels like fire ants spitting fire all over your skin. They also didn’t test it on ghouls, fearing that it would further harm the skin or throw off the delicate balance of radiation in their system, which is necessary to keep them alive. Still, if it could prevent ghoulification and death, it’s worth the chance. Normal radaway wouldn’t cut it, not in this situation. To ease the pain, she decides on injecting Medx to numb the body and daytripper to keep him high enough so he won’t attack her. 

She makes quick work to inject the drugs into him. All that is left is to dose him with rad-x and daytripper. “Open wide,” she commands. He doesn’t listen, but he does turn to her, staring at her face. “Right, I’ll just…” Lilith grabs his chin and parts his lips, slipping the pills in. He doesn’t swallow. “Come on man, you gotta swallow.” 

He still doesn’t budge. She sighs and fishes out some water from her pack, cracking the can open and putting it to his lips. He drinks a little bit, and swallows enough. Hopefully it washed down the pills. Not long after, he falls unconscious, leaving her to take care of a complete idiot of a stranger. 

Hours pass and she’s still there, keeping herself busy by laying traps, reading terminals, and periodically treating this random junkie she’s taken on as her patient. She managed to push aside some bookcases to hide their location. It was a fair bit of trouble, considering how little strength and stamina she has. She never was the fastest or the strongest, but what she lacks in physical power she makes up for in mental acuity and awareness. She doesn’t fight like most people, barging in and shooting up a place, engaging in melee combat. Instead she moves like a whisper, her small and weak body allowing her to shimmy into all kinds of nooks and crannies, her feet hardly makes noise. It’s a blessing and a curse. When she’s caught, it’s hard to fight someone close quarters. But in the shadows she’s able to pick enemies off one by one, quickly retreating if anyone suspects a thing. Then, there’s always the chance of letting something else do the fighting. Not many people pay terminals a second glance. If they do, they’re normally locked. That’s where her strengths come in. You never know what secrets that dusty pre-war tech can hide. Often times, it hides some pretty interesting security measures. 

She managed to rig up a protection to patrol again, alongside activating turrets in the research building. Whatever functions this place served before the war, it was clear they felt the need to set up defenses. She recalls learning a bit about how life used to be, before the bombs. Civil unrest was rampant, fears of spies were common, and immoral experimentation was commonplace. It’s no wonder why they would set up defenses with that in mind. But the past is so distant to her. She never lived through it, so at times she forgets the reason why things are the way they are. 

Her ‘patient’ has been unconscious for three days, leaving her strung out and stuck in one place. Setting up defenses took a lot out of her. It wouldn’t have been possible without the dose of buffout she found on the guy and some slips of mentats for the hacking and treatment. To be honest, she’s exhausted. After finally having some time to herself, she hears a stir in the room where she left him. She sighs and enters the room, preparing to break the bad news to him. 

She sits down by the gurney as he opens his eyes and groans. “Hey, take it easy,” she says. His eyes dart to where she is. He jumps slightly, but relaxes when he determines she harbors no ill intent. She goes to his side, helping him sit up. “Easy now. Go slow.” 

He looks down at his hands, seeing bandages covering some spots on his arms and his skin looking markedly different than before. But, it’s not what he was expecting. “Where-,” he starts. She cuts him off. 

“You’re in a medical center. I found you here,” she says. He still seems confused. Why does he look this way, who is she? “You took a dose of a radioactive drug. I have a knack for medicine so I intervened and did the best I could.” 

“Why?” He musters out. There’s so much he feels like he’s missing. She’s at a loss for words. He turns to her, to see just who this mysterious lady is. His memory is hazy, but he swears he’s seen her before. She crosses her arms. 

“Does it really matter? You’re alive aren’t you?” She purses. She’s got a fair bit of sass and a pretty face. It’s not often he finds a doctor with this much character. “Look, I did the best I could. But understand it’s not my fault. I did as much damage control as possible. And, well…” she reaches for a hand mirror she found in one of the office desks. “Look for yourself.” 

His mind still feels fuzzy and he numbly takes the mirror out of her hands, lightly grazing her soft hands as he does. It doesn’t register for a moment the person he looks at is himself. He’s not quite a ghoul, not quite a person. He’s somewhere in between. His skin is still flesh toned, albeit marled with red and pink swatches, showing scarred under skin. He touches his face, noting how it’s no longer smooth and riddled with vertical shallows and scars. His nose is still intact, looking a little worse for wear, and his eyes are now bloodshot and a pale blue. It all comes back to him, the ghouls, the shame, the drug, the hallucination. It makes his head hurt a bit, but it grounds him back to reality. “Hey, not bad. I kind of look like I’m the king of the zombies now,” he notes. She furrows her brows and purses her lips, noticeably confused by his nonchalant response. 

“So you’re not bothered?” She asks slowly, trying to be sure he won’t turn violent on her and blame her for his misfortune. Sadly, it’s happened before. 

“I’m more bothered you helped a random stranger, doll,” he says. She seems naive. She’s got too good of a heart for this place. 

“Well you didn’t shoot at me so I took a chance,” she retorts. “Why, would you have rather’d I left you to die?” 

“I wouldn’t have died,” he said. “I knew what that was gonna do sweetheart.” He’s a bit bothered that someone got in the way of what he wanted to do. There’s no use chewing out someone who was trying to be helpful though. Not a lot of good people like that out in the wastes, who is he to tell her what to do? 

“Well…” she explains. “If your goal was to become a ghoul, for whatever reason, you’re half-way there. You can take some rads and your skin looks different now, but I don’t think you’ll progress much further than this.” He doesn’t look the same at least. That’s all he cares about at this point. He can look in the mirror and not recognize who it is anymore. Hopefully no one else can too. “You’re lucky you had such a thick set of hair, otherwise the thinning would have been much more noticeable.” 

“So tell me doc-“ 

“I’m not a doctor.” 

“Okay, nurse then.” 

“That’s-“

“Am I gonna keep my hair? Lose my nose? Live a long time?” 

“I.. I honestly don’t know. I’d have to keep an eye on your condition before I can make any predictions. I suspect you might have some radiation rot down the road, but I can’t be too sure. Things are up in the air right now.”

“So then, nurse. What do I owe you? I don’t have much in the way of caps.” 

“I prefer favors over caps.”

“I’m not sure you would want those kinds of favors with how I look right now, but I won’t deny a lady what she wants.”

“That’s- I-I don’t mean in that way. Are men around here this bold?” 

“I am.” 

She shifts slightly on her other leg. “Anyways, I think it’s safe to say we’re indebted to each other. I poked my nose somewhere where it didn’t belong, but I used a lot of my medical supplies on you. I can’t give you answers and you can’t give me back my meds. So how about we just owe each other a favor and cash it in.”

“Sure thing, nurse sunshine.”

“Lilith.”

“Huh?” 

“My name is Lilith. And you?”

“Call me John.” 

“You seem like a good guy John,” she says. He internally winces. That’s the opposite of what he believes right now. “I’m not from around here, I could use someone to show me around.” He thinks for a moment. She negotiated further. “I’m sure a strong guy like you can show me the ropes. Besides, I owe you and you owe me. Why don’t we travel a bit together so I can keep an eye on your condition?” Flattery usually doesn’t work on him. But then again, he doesn’t have much more to lose except his life, which he hasn’t valued much since the incident. 

“That depends,” he starts. “How much trouble you get into, sister?” 

She grins. “Lots.”


	3. Roughing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith and John arrive at the Med-Tek research center, looking for what she came to the commonwealth for. After a tussle with some ferals of course.

“Ten o’ clock, to yer left!” She shouts. He doesn’t say anything in agreement, there’s no need. He’s been hovering close to her, like she asked of him. The tactics were a bit odd to him, shuffling around in the shadows and picking scum off one by one normally wasn’t his style. John’s always been somewhat careful, but nowhere near as her. Seeing how she moves and how she aims makes him understand why he didn’t hear her coming. If only he knew how he almost caught her. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting of her. With how little scars she had in comparison to him, he figured she just ran and hid or came out of a little vault, each of those options being somewhat close to reality, not that he would ever know for a while. But seeing her fight, he realizes how experienced she was. Maybe she’s just that good at shooting first, but maybe she also has a safe place to go home to. 

He shoots at the feral she warned him about with his new shotgun, the one she so generously bought for him. The battlefield falls quiet, with the only noise being the echo of the shell pinging off in the quiet wasteland. “Well if they weren’t awake then, they definitely are now,” she comments. He scoffs. “Come on, let’s go in before the noise attracts more of them.” 

They head to the front and John pries open the sliding doors, eliciting a groan from the rusted doors. Not wasting anytime, they both slip in and the door slams back into place behind them. It’s clear no one has bothered to explore this area in awhile. The reception area smells horrid, like rot and must. Dust seems to be piled up thick on every surface, even the floor. Though, some areas have distorted footprints here and there. Lilith adjusts the gas mask, thankful for how it blocks at least some of the stench. She can only feel for John who insists he doesn’t need one. Her Geiger counter clicks occasionally, signifying that the dust is slightly radioactive. 

‘Best not to touch it if I can help it. I ought to wash myself off when I can afterwards,’ she thinks to herself. 

“Why’re we here again?” John asks, breaking the silence. She checks her pip-boy to ensure they’re in the right location. 

“Looking for tech,” she replies curtly. “Why, do you have something better to do?” Although he seems like a kind guy, she’s not one to trust fast. But he does make it damn hard not to with his charisma and dastardly smile. 

He shushes her. “Hear that?” She strains her ears. There’s a low groan down coming from somewhere. “Bet’cha it’s more ghouls.” Speaking of which, she’s noticed that ghouls aren’t as aggressive towards him. They still attack eventually, but there seems to be a delay in their reactions. She chalks it up to the internal radiation of him. He really is the oddity now. Not quite human, not quite ghoul. It’s interesting to her to say the least. She wonders how it all works, how exactly it happened. If she could ever get him to ‘Mont, maybe she could figure it out. It’s probably an effect of the experimental radaway serum. Maybe some of his cells are ghoulified, while some are protected by the serum. “You there, sunshine?” 

She snaps back into reality. “Sorry, just thinking is all,” she murmurs. She goes ahead and starts rummaging around, John hovering only a few steps behind. She looks through files here and there, hacks a terminal, and rummages around. Nothing too bizarre to him. They’d been going at it like this for a few weeks now. She acts more like a scavenger than anything, only she swears what she hordes is much more valuable. But who’s he to complain? She shares caps and supplies and distracts him from the cesspool that is diamond city. Occasionally, she’ll slip him some chems. It’s a pretty solid deal to him. 

She begins to sneak around the room to a nearby terminal. Whenever she gets in the zone, she has a tendency to walk on the tips of her toes. It’s quiet and it works, but it definitely seems a bit awkward to John. He follows behind her, not quite as quiet as she is. He’s never been one to be silent. He remembers his mom chewing him out for always being so damn loud. He was good enough to sneak out of the house late at night and make a run to Goodneighbour for his chems, that’s all he ever needed. She’s on a whole other level. But she assured him he can learn well enough. 

She toys with the terminal, her nimble fingers clacking away against the keyboard. A warning displays on the terminal and it begins to beep rapidly. LAB ON LOCKDOWN. SEE ADMINISTRATOR FOR INSTRUCTIONS. Of course it would be her luck to encounter something like this. The alert echoes throughout the hallways, eliciting raspy groans and growls from sleeping ferals. 

“Turn the damn thing off!” John shouts. She frantically attempts to press buttons before stepping back and attempting to unplug it. He rushes over and smashes the terminal screen with the end of his shotgun, sending shards of glass on the floor and denting the computer. The beeps slowly fade out, but it’s far too late. The ferals are awake and rushing to their location. 

“Well, since we gotta go loud,” she mutters and pulls out a revolver. It’s a .44 magnum. He would love to ask how a scrawny girl like her manages to deal with the recoil and weight of that thing, but now is not the place nor the time. She holds it with two hands and steadies her aim. A feral barrels through a corridor and launches itself at John. “Get back!” 

He backs up in time and the feral falls to the floor, now lifeless with a giant hole in it’s head. Brains and blood fly onto his face. “Gross,” he comments, slinging his shotgun from off his shoulder. He wipes his face on his sleeve and backs up to her position. “I’ll get ‘em if they get close.”She nods and their little system works without a hitch. Only a few escape her aim and John handles the rest. It’s surprisingly efficient. 

“Hope you got what you needed out of that terminal,” he laughs. The area is clear for now. They’re both covered in the shower of radioactive blood from the scene. She takes a minute and lowers her mask to her neck, popping a rad-x. “You seriously that nervous about rads?” 

“I don’t take rads as well as other people,” she admits. He admires her a moment before her face scrunches up in disgust. “God this place smells rancid.” 

“You just noticing that?”

“A gas mask hides smells fairly well, John.” She swallows down the pill dry. “I don’t understand why you don’t.” She clears her throat. 

“And hide this mug? Never.” 

She laughs. “I see where your priorities lie.” He cracks a smile, feeling blood on his face crusting against his skin already. She brushes some off with her gloved fingers. “But you really should let all this blood stay on your face. It’s a good way to get an infection, especially with your condition right now.” She has a look of concern on her face and his heart flutters for just a moment. She draws her hand back and he takes his forearm and wipes his face. 

“Better?”

“Close enough.” They walk along to the next rooms, abandoning any urge to be quiet. They chat with each other while rummaging around, occasionally breaking conversation to take care of any ghoul stragglers. With John’s advantage now being partially irradiated, he gets the drop on them fast, preferring to use his prized knife instead. “You really like that thing, don’t you?” 

“Sure do. This little number is my right hand lady.” He wipes the blood off on his rugged jeans. “She’s gotten me out of tons of deep shit.”

“You’re using it with your left hand, John.” 

“You’re quite the smart ass, huh?”

“Come on, you walked into that!” He switches his knife to his right hand. 

“Better?”

“Didn’t know you were ambidextrous.”

“Ambi what now?”

“You use both of your hands.”

“Last I checked, everyone used both of their hands. He thinks for a moment. “Well, unless they don’t got the other one.”

“No as in, both of your hands are dominant.”

“Sugar, all of me is dominant.” 

She puts her hands up and sighs. “Forget it, you’re impossible sometimes.” 

“Pretty sure my skin is a walking testament to that.”

Her expression falters lightly under her mask. Truly, she blames herself for not being able to save him better. Maybe if she was faster and made herself known sooner, she could have stopped it in the first place. But now, she knows he’s going to look like that for the rest of his life. His skin is raw, thin, and scarred up now. Not that he looks grotesque now, she’s sure he could still get a lady. Or man. Or… whatever he’s into. But the point is, she feels guilty for his circumstances. 

He notices her body language and takes the sudden silence as a hint. “Lilith, it’s not your fault you know.” She’s a little more than surprised that he notices. 

“What? What’re you talking about? I’m not…” she trails off. How the hell could he read her? Why is he being so nonchalant and nice about it. 

“Come on, don’t pretend I don’t know. I still got my nose and my toes, that’s all that matters.” She chuckles. 

“Actually, you lost one of those in the process.” 

“Wait, really?” He touches his nose out of instinct, earning a chuckle out of her. 

“I think. I found a nasty looking toe on the floor where we last camped out. I figured one of my traps worked,” she comments. “Wanna go back for it?” 

“Looks like I got most of my toes and my nose. I’d say I walked out of that pretty well, sister.” 

“‘Suppose so, eh?” She walks ahead of him when they reach the offices, beginning to hastily look through the drawers and eyes some terminals. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warns. She recoils back before she touches the keys. “Don’t want a repeat of last time.” 

“We’re gonna have to eventually if we want in the basement,” she responds. 

“Correction, if you want in the basement. I’m just here for the ride.” She huffs out, the sound being muffled by the gas mask. He goes ahead and sits on one of the old office chairs while she rummages around. Most of the terminals are broken anyways, but she has a feeling in her gut that the lockdown can only be stopped with a terminal. 

‘If I were an administrator, where would I have worked?’ She thinks to herself, scanning the room. There’s broken stairs leading to a big office overlooking the cubicles. ‘I wouldn’t know cause I’m not pre-war, but a bossy asshole would probably want a big room like that.’ 

“John, help me up,” she says. He hums, looking for her amidst the cubicles. Instead, she’s eyeing up a ledge leading to a second floor. 

“How am I supposed to do that?” He asks. There’s nothing there that he can move for her to step onto. The floor looks unstable anyways. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She states. “Lift me up.” Her tone is so matter-of-factly and determined. “What’re you looking at me for? I’m not that heavy.”

“No, no, I can do it,” he insists. He kneels on the floor in front of her and cups his hands. “Step on my hand.” He never thought he’d be asking for a lady to step on him, but that’s what firsts are for. She obliges, putting her small boots in his hands. “I’m gonna toss you up, got it? Hold on, I’m not on my knees often.” He jokes. She gingerly rests her hands on his shoulders for support. Usually touches like that from a woman would send some tingles down his spine, but it’s not the same when the lady in question has a black gas mask on, fitted with tactical goggles. He pushes himself off of the ground and she jumps off from his hand. She scrambles a bit to get up, but lands after struggling to pull half of her body up. The floor groans and John instinctively steps back quite a few steps. Right on cue, the ledge collapses with her on it. She lets out a surprised shriek and falls onto the collapsing floor. The floor tilts and creates a ramp. “You alright?” 

“I’m fine enough, you?” She answers back, pushing herself off of the floor and brushing herself off. She likely sustained some bruising from the incident, but not enough to stop her from bantering. “Okay maybe I am a bit heavy.” 

“Nah, if anything is heavy, it’s that damn pistol and sniper you got,” he teases. “How’s a girl like you able to handle a magnum?” 

“I don’t know, hows a guy like you able to handle a punch to the face? You’re gonna earn one if you keep it up,” she teases back. 

“Pretty well, actually.” He answers. “Them scrawny arms can’t even punch a radroach, I bet,” he retorts back and chuckles. 

“Why would you even punch a radroach? ‘Ts a good way to get bit.” She says. He laughs hysterically. “Bullets are more convenient.”

“You’re telling me you waste bullets on those things?” He barks out a laugh. Thank god for the gas mask or else he could see she’s red in the face. “You too weak to stomp it too?” She punches him in the arm to no avail. It’s useless and hardly hurts. “You ought to learn how to fight with a knife at least, doll.” 

“So long as you’re here I don’t need to,” she quips back. For some reason, her saying she needs him makes him feel a little less like trash and a little more like a human. Or ghoul. Or whatever he was now.


	4. MedTek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith and John banter some while diving deeper into the facility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is admittedly a little short and somewhat boring. Sorry about that! More action will be coming soon though!

“How much longer are you gonna spend on that thing?” He impatiently asks. He leans against the wall after he helps himself to the container of Mentats opened on the table. 

“It’ll go faster if you stop bothering me,” she replies. She’s focused on the lines of text on the screen, letters and numbers and symbols that mean nothing to him. It’s a foreign language to him, but for her it’s a wonderful mess of coding. She takes another hit of mentats and leans in her chair, rubbing her temples slightly. “You take these for fun?” 

“It’s my chem of choice, sister. Makes me feel all… intellectual,” he admits. She chuckles a bit. “What’s so funny? Come on, don’t you have a preferred ride.” She thinks for a moment. 

“I like Daytripper on my off days. I’d rather watch the world melt rather than think too much.” He raises an eyebrow, not seeing her answer coming. “I like Cateye too, though I haven’t seen it round here and it’s rare where I’m from. Makes you feel like you can see everything.” She opens her eyes wide to drive her point across before relaxing her eyes once more. She stretches momentarily and stares at the screen. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She furiously types away on the terminal and it soon lets out a gratuitous beep. Success. 

“What was the point of that?”

She clicks an option and they hear the echo of doors opening. “The point was that.”

“You spent all this time tryna open a door?”

“Uh, yeah. What else would I be doing?”

“I don’t know, activating killer robots?”

“Everything is already dead, John. What’s the point in that? Besides, now we can get to the basement and I can get what I came here for.”

“And that was?”

“A serum, a cure for a disease.”

“Shit have you been sick this whole time? Is it… contagious?”

“No to the first one, yes to the second.”

“Then why…?”

“Better safe than sorry. I explained this to you, were you not paying attention?”

“Was I high?” Suddenly, Lilith bursts into laughter. John chuckles awkwardly. “Is that.. funny?”

She’s now bent over, clutching her stomach, sounding like she’s near sobbing. “John,” she says, in between laughs and wheezes. “Read… that.. line!”

“Test blah blah blah…. wait, does that say what I think it says?” She nods in her laughter. 

EXPERIMENT 2312 TEST SUBJECTS REPORT ERECTIONS LASTING 4 HOURS. 

“Damn, need me some of that,” he chuckles to himself. “I thought you said this was a cure?”

“A cure for your sex life it looks like,” she wheezes, breaking into another fit of laughter. He feels the tips of his ears going red, but with the condition of his skin, it’s hard to notice anything is amiss. 

“Not that you would know,” he insinuates. She starts to take deep breaths, finally calming herself down. The moment feels awkward after she’s finally coming down for laughing at such a trivial thing. Still, it’s good to find all the subtle joys in life. “Now let’s get this over with.” 

She nods and they head to the sound of the door. On their way, they notice a horrible scent wafting through the air. Even through her gas mask, Lilith can smell it intensely. Dust, mold, and decay is the wasteland’s perfume. A noxious perfume. Capable of making anyone vomit. Usually, the smell is a telltale sign that there was a massacre in an airtight room, or there’s ghouls abound. Feral ghouls. 

“God, that fucking smell,” Lilith says through her mask, giving her voice a wheezy sound through the filters. The filters are about due for a change by now, but with ghouls afoot, it’s a rather poor choice to attempt now. 

“We still going loud?” John asks, hopeful. It’s been such a long time since she’s fought in such a way. When she first crawled out of the bunker, the adrenaline rush made her reckless. She would barrel head first into danger. Some scars and a rather brutal accident put a slow to that. Still, the thrill of adrenaline calls her. 

“Tempting… perhaps we will,” she comments. Her heart rate picks up at the possibility. The delectable danger is teasing. After all, it’ll only be a couple of ghouls. It won’t hurt to be reckless, right? She shivers at the thought. Feral ghouls are already awake, absentmindedly looking around in what’s either recognition or confusion. She weaves through the abandoned trash and overturned shelves on the ground with relative ease. 

Thankfully, the door containing the ghouls is still shut by an electric lock. By the looks of it, they were trapped in a decontamination room. The lockdown initiated an order to lock the poor souls in there. It's unfortunate they had to go out like that. Through the glass, she’s able to see that there are claw marks near the door. The staff tried clawing their way out. Those who would ponder too much at the thought would most likely be disturbed. But survivalists know better than to think such a thing in the face of danger. Rather, it’s a topic left to be explored late in the nights, when insomnia tightens it’s grips on your mind. 

The ghouls stare at John, clearly perplexed, before focusing their gaze on Lilith and choosing to launch themselves at the glass. It doesn’t quite work, due to the nature of glass used in decontamination zones. There’s some chips and cracks, but for the most part, the glass is sturdy and solid. 

“You’ll need to cover the door while I get this terminal working. Once the door opens, I’m a bit vulnerable here so can you stand by me?” Lilith requests. He gives her a nonchalant ‘sure’ in agreement and positions himself accordingly. 

“Any last words?” He jokes. 

“Just two. Look out,” she responds. The door slides open and the ghouls momentarily stare at John. Wasting no time, he pumps his shotgun and the shot rings through the air. With the threat eliminated in a flash, Lilith comments on the situation. “Huh, they’re really getting confused by you now. You feelin’ okay? Are your rads increasing?” 

“Why don’t we get that cure of yours first?”


	5. Staying up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After retrieving the cure from Med-Tek, the pair decides to settle down and have some small talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly banter. I’m still trying to work on dialogue and forming a relationship between the two characters... as I tagged, this is a SLOW burn.

They managed to clear the remaining ferals in the lab. At that point, most of the ferals were withered and decayed, making it an easy fight. The basement level had a horrid stench from being isolated in the airtight laboratory. Truly horrendous. Even after leaving MedTek, Lilith swears she can still smell it. But perhaps it’s because they spent far longer down there than desired. Even though the descent of the elevator was loud, the ghouls didn’t seem to notice and Lilith insisted they remain quiet. There were enough ghouls to warrant such an approach. Especially given Lilith’s deficiency in close combat. 

The pair snuck onto their victims with relative ease. John was quite efficient with a knife and usually performed a quick stabbing to the neck to end the ferals’ miserable agony. John couldn’t help thinking about how the ghouls used to be people, with all the little vices and quirks that come along with humanity. Again, he would think back to Diamond City. All those families kicked out and left for dead. All that hatred. All of it orchestrated by none other than his own god damn brother. Guy McDonough was always an ass, particularly to John. There was no bond between the two brothers other than the obligatory blood blond. John’s brother was always fairly cruel, instances of the tato squashing coming to mind, but John never thought that his brother would be so revolting. He can still feel the way his smile shook him to his core. It wasn’t a smile of happiness, just a smile of pure evil. He couldn’t even recognize him. After running off and taking the drug he did, he can never step foot in Diamond City again. Full ghoul or not, his pride and disgust will never allow it. He swears there will never be a day where he comes back there. Never. 

“Hey man, what’s going on with you?” Lilith asks, breaking him out of his thoughts. The two of them settled down for the night in a boarded up shop down the street. Lilith can tell something wasn’t right with him. The lanterns and candles accentuate the frown on his face. He glanced over at her, at a loss for words. Should he tell her? No, that would be unwise. 

“Just sore from that tussle, sister,” he lies. She narrows her eyes slightly. Sure, it could be true. He certainly could have gotten banged up back there, especially when they were ambushed by that horde outside. However, he nearly died at his own hands just two weeks ago. 

“Nurse Sunshine is in the house, show me where it hurts then,” she challenges. He groans in response. There is no winning with her. He doesn’t make an effort to move or show any sign that he’s playing her game. “No? Then I call bullshit. You’ve been moping around since I met you, so what’s up?” 

“Why should I tell you?” He barks back. He doesn’t look at her, instead turning the opposite way. Shit, why is he so defensive about it? It’s not like him. Normally he’s smooth and suave and knows how to work the conversation to end up in his favor. Yet, her asking is like rubbing glass in a still open wound. She was just trying to be kind. Revealing his thoughts would mean revealing he was related to the scumbag Mayor of Diamond City. That was not something he wanted to be associated with anymore. 

“Well, that’s up to you. I’m not holding a gun to your head forcing you to talk,” she replies coolly. She takes a swig from a brown bottle, most likely containing Gwinnett Liquor. “But you did just try to kill yourself last week, or at least, maim yourself beyond recognition. Last I checked, those aren’t reasons why people turn ghoul.” 

“You talk as if people go ghoul by choice,” he remarks. All the ghouls he met were either there before the bombs or soaked up too many rads out in the wastes. 

“Some do, actually. I’ve met a few who did it purposely. Found the bodies of others who tried. Not everyone can turn ghoul, so you must have had a good reason to risk your life,” she explains. “You really almost got me there. Nice try, but I’m not going on a medical tangent right now.” 

“Worth a shot.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you do it? I mean, at first I thought you were just stupid, taking a drug like that. But when you woke up, you mentioned something. You were relieved you didn’t look the same. I’ve been trying to figure out why this whole time. You looked attractive enough, surely you didn’t try to melt your face off because of that. You knew what that drug would do yet you still took it. I want to know why.”

“Not much else to know ‘cept I wanted to get high. Why are you so interested?”

“You intrigue me, is all.”

“Is it cause I ‘looked attractive enough’?” She flushes slightly at his retort, earning a light hearted chuckle out of him. A wicked idea comes into his head. “Don’t get embarrassed, doll. Go on, admire the goods.” 

“Pretty sure you’ve been admiring mine this whole time.” 

“Just wondering what you look like without all that gear on.” 

“Ugh, buy me a drink first,” she complains, taking another swig from the bottle. “But I do need to take some of this off. Think we can start a small fire here?” 

“Not a bright idea, but you can always get close to me. I’ll be sure to keep your warm, sugar.” She laughs at his flirts, assuming he’s joking. Little did she know, he was not. He feels like he might develop a little crush on her. She seems caring, smart, and fierce. A lady with those qualities? Hard to find in the wastes. Usually, you only have one of those traits. But all of them? Quite the catch. 

“I’ll just take some of the armor on and keep the rest on then.” She turns her back to him and begins to unfasten her vest from her body, without stripping herself of her long, black trench coat. The vest is bulletproof and surprisingly light, thanks to the carbon nanotube mesh. A little side project from her home. It fits her almost like a corset, tailored to the grooves of her body. Only difference is the vest is padded and hides her body, instead of pointlessly cinching and accentuating. Out in the wastes, aesthetic is meaningless. Color has to have a purpose or function, unless you’re a scavver looting mismatching corpses for gear. Everything she wears is all black. Blending into shadows is her top priority, alongside disguising her gender. Being a woman in the wasteland can be… scary. 

Her vest slips off after she undoes the final fastenings. She makes quick work of her other armor pads, occasionally having to slightly shift her jacket to accomplish her goal. John catches glimpses of what she wears underneath, but not enough to get a full picture. He thinks she’s wearing some sort of tight fitting bodysuit, but he’s not too sure. When she’s done, she zips up her coat once more. There’s some slits and tattered edges on the tail of her coat, allowing him a small window to her calves, shrouded in tight, black fabric. She seems to have some toned muscles on her legs, but with how physically weak she is, he reckons that’s the only part of her that has muscle. 

“Damn, you’re a tease,” he chides, jokingly of course. 

“Like I said, buy me a drink first.” She takes another sip from the bottle before scavenging through her bag. She pulls out a bottle of pills. Sleeping pills. 

“You sneak around with a lot of chems on you, sister. Doesn’t that stuff rattle around?” 

“It does, but I found a solution,” she said. “Look.” She unfastens the top and points it at his direction. There’s fabric inside. She uses her ungloved fingers to pull at it, unraveling it from the case. It’s gauzes and bandages, pressing the pills to the bottom of it. “Double storage. A place for bandages and a place for pills. Keeps things nice and quiet.” 

“Huh, never thought of that one.” 

“Mhm, most don’t.”

“So why do you sneak around in the shadows?” 

“The darkness makes me horny.”

“Well, I’m not one to judge. We could always turn the lights off and-”

“I’m just fucking with you. I can’t fight once people close the gap. I fight at a distance, which is where you come in. But don’t try anything, I can still shoot you in the stomach.”

He chuckles. She sure does have a lot of sass. “Wasn’t planning on it, not that type of person. So long as you keep the chems coming I’ll watch your back,” he assures. She swallows a pill and washes it down with the last of her liquor. She shakes it to offer him some, but he declines. “I’ll stick to Jet.” 

She shrugs, giving off a ‘suit yourself’ vibe, before laying on her side, facing him as he takes a puff. “Well, I’m gonna check out. Night.”

“I’ll stay up n’ keep watch.” 

“Wake me up when your shift is over then.” 

“Will do, princess. Will do,” he promises. He wonders just what in the hell had gotten into him. Princess? Really? The only kind of princess she’d be is the princess of death. 

‘Don’t catch feelings, John. You know better,’ he warns himself, stealing a glance at her. She’s already out like a light, sleeping on the floor. Only a true survivor can sleep anywhere like that. He catches himself admiring her and staring at her face, wondering what it’d feel like to have his hands in her hair and to feel her lips. ‘Shit, I’m already fucked.’


	6. Synthetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After moving on from the Malden medical area, John and Lilith have to cross through Cambridge in search of a place to resupply lost medical supplies. But when they cross paths with Diamond City, John is more than just mildly uncomfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, to the approximate 4 people reading this. I appreciate you reading! I’m doing my best trying to capture the sarcastic, threatening, yet charming nature of Hancock’s personality. It didn’t take me long to write this chapter, surprisingly. I already wrote pieces of it before I even got to this point. Anyways, enjoy! Leave a kudos or a comment if you want, idc.

“What the fuck are those?” She asks in an alarmed whisper. She really is new to the area. The beings in questions look like mechanical skeletons. Their form is strangely similar to the bone structure of the human body and their design is streamlined. They look nothing like protectrons. Yet, they’re clearly robots. Some of them have a sort of skin on them, covering the skeletons in a fleshy, yet plastic, looking material. There’s a semblance of a face, but it seems devoid of expression and purpose. She has a startled expression on her face and a sparkle in her eye. She’s both intrigued and horrified. Her pulse quickens as her mind floods. 

‘How tough are they? Is this pre-war tech? Are they smart? Friendly? How do they work? How would you kill them? How tough are they in a fight?’ She wonders. The possibility of a fight and learning about new tech sends a thrill down her spine. 

“Once we slip by em I’ll tell you,” John whispers. She nods in agreement to the deal. He proceeds to lead the way, choosing to sneak around the large concrete and marble building. When she glanced at the area, the pre-war maps indicated this area had a college, the Commonwealth Institute of Technology. The building they are desperately slinking around has to be it. They slip behind a metal crane. 

“Sensors detect possible hostiles in the area,” a robotic voice observes. They both freeze. He looks at her with a panicked expression, only to see her remain cool and calm. She presses her gloves finger to her lips, silently indicating to be quiet. He nods, trusting her judgement. She retrieves a bolt from her pocket before positioning herself around the corner of the crane. She throws it as far as possible, causing it to make a sound. The metal skeleton turns to the direction of the sound, deciding to investigate the area. As it wanders of, John grabs her hand and they proceed to make a run for it. They don’t stop until they’ve reached a drawbridge, partially raised by a boat underneath it. Out of breath, she pants. 

“What the fuck were those things?” She says, in between breaths. He looks over at her, surprised by how out of breath she is. Did she really not have that much endurance? 

“There’s this… place, thing, hell I don’t know. They call themselves the institute. Those things are their robots. They call ‘em synths. Those metal heads randomly go on a rampage and claim something is the institute’s property. Think they use them to terrorize people and fetch shit.” 

She stands on the tips of her toes and cranes her neck to look in the direction they fled from. Deciding that the coast is clear, she asks him a question once more. “Some of them looked more realistic. Are there different kinds?”

“Oh yeah. Some of them look and talk like people. Occasionally people will go missing and one of those things show up in their place.”

“Why do they do that?”

“To spy on us, probably.”

“Do the synths… do they know they’re not the same person?”

“They know. But some of them run away and decide they don’t wanna be like that anymore.”

“So they have thoughts? And feelings?”

“Some do.” 

She gaps and mumbles. “They’re playing god. Those things are basically people.” She thinks for a moment before speaking, quieter this time. “Do… do the ones who have feelings need help?” 

“Well, someone’s gotta be helping ‘em out. How else are they going to run from the commonwealth’s boogeyman?” 

She widens her eyes and tugs on his sleeve. “Tell me more.” 

“Told you all I know, sister. They’re secretive. No one even knows where they’re at.” 

“Damn, they gotta have some cool tech if they can make things like this shit. I’d want to at least meet them.”

“Are you crazy? They kill and replace people. Don’t tell me you’re sympathetic towards them.” 

“I didn’t say it’d be a polite meeting,” she defends. She lets some of her thoughts and criticisms spill out. “Why do they do that? Certainly there’d be an easier and less intrusive way to spy. There’s no need for them to be so advanced. A wandering protectron could do the trick. Or some microphones, cameras maybe. Doesn’t it seem like a wasteful thing to do, just to spy? They ought to be doing even more than just looking.” 

“‘Suppose you got a point there, sister. But this is a discussion for when I’m high on mentats, not when we’re out in the open. Come on, let’s get somewhere safer.” 

She agrees, feeling a bit self conscious at her sudden rambling. She takes a final glance at Cambridge before he leads her to an area he describes as ‘The Fens’. Even at a distance, she can see the dome of CIT. There’s something strange about that place, something calling her to barge in. Maybe it’s just the promise of tech and useful books. After all, her mission was to get the scope and look out for information while she was there. But with this mysterious force called the Institute and their synthetic people? There is way more going on in the commonwealth than she thought. This place wasn’t just ruins and some settlements. It was much bigger, more complicated. 

‘Even after I drop off the cure, I’m coming back to this place. Whether the council likes it or not. This place is too fucking weird to walk away from,’ she thinks to herself. She removes herself from the area and catches up with John. They both walk in silence for awhile, straining their ears for any sign of synths or for any other threat. Thankfully, they encounter none. 

The hum of turrets echoes just around the corner. They turn onto the dilapidated street, littered with debris, trash, and most likely, bullets. A rather large structure looms in the view. A green, painted wall. In white, there’s a crude drawing of a diamond shape, with a rotted plywood board spelling out 

DIAMOND CITY —>

“Hey John, is this place open to trading?” She asks. He stiffens and slows down in his tracks. He was worried she’d ask such a thing. There’s two choices in this situation: answer her honestly, or pretend he didn’t hear a thing. Right now he’d rather pretend than have to step foot in that cesspool. She trots up to him, trying to keep up with his pace. Her shorter height and legs makes it a bit difficult to do so, since he’s a fairly tall guy with long, purposeful strides. “John, did you hear me?” 

She’s much closer to him and there’s not much sound in the streets besides the hum of nearby turrets. He can’t pretend he didn’t hear her. Not when she’s right there. He blinks slowly and takes a deep breath, feeling the tension already gripping his body. “Hm, did ya say something, doll?” 

“You high again or something? I asked if Diamond city is open to trading. We could use some more medical supplies.” He really has to explain things to her. With how he looks right now, he’d have to stay outside. Not that he would want to head on inside. Going inside risks people recognizing him. She told him he didn’t really look recognizable, and he noticed his voice has become much more gravely and raspy, but the fear of being recognized grips him tightly. He wants his past to be far away from him. All he wants to do is run away. “Jesus, slow down. My legs are short, I can’t keep up with you like that!” 

He didn’t even notice he was walking faster. He can’t run. But he wants to. It’s painful. He settles on trying to distract her. “Want me to pick you up then? Maybe then you’d be able to keep up.” He chuckles.

“I can’t tell if that was supposed to be a flirt, an insult, or both.” They cross paths with a guard, decked out in a strange uniform. Their get up consists of a helmet and a chest piece, made of strange, ribbed material. A thick layer of dirt cakes the armor. “Oi, you work for this place?”

“What’s it look like to you?” The guard responds, evidently annoyed. 

“This place open for some trading?” 

“Gate’s open ahead.” The guard tears his eyes away from Lilith and locks eyes with John. Through the helmet he’s wearing, Lilith can see a frown emerging on his face. The guard turns to face him. “Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with your skin? Look, I don’t care if you’re in the middle of becoming a ghoul or not. No ghouls allowed. Period. Get this disgusting thing away from here.” 

Lilith’s knuckles turn white as she balls her gloved hands into fists. No ghouls allowed? What kind of bullshit rule is this? “Alright, number one, don’t tell me what to do,” she starts, clearly seething. “Number two, ghouls are people too. And he’s with me. If he can’t come in, I ain’t either.” 

“Good, not like the city needs another bitch.” 

“The fuck did you say?” Lilith takes a step forward. John feels a tightness in his throat forming. His blood feels cold. This can’t be happening. She’s daring to fight with these fools. Her, out of all people. She can’t fight when things go physical. She’s so small to him after all. She has to be psychotic to try this. He would de-escalate if he could will himself to move. But a sick part of him is enjoying this. She’s doing what he never had the balls to do.

“Get on scavver, before you end up with a shell in your stomach.” 

“Now, is that any way to talk to a guest?” A voice chides. John freezes turns away from the source. It’s fucking him. Mayor Scumbag himself, his former brother. He strides up to her, walking very stiffly. He’s somewhat overweight, not something that is typical in the wasteland. “Now, miss. I do apologize. I’m afraid rules are rules. Your little friend can wait outside, or you can come back later when he’s not in your company.” 

She narrows her eyes and uses the clues around her to determine his status. He chewed out a guard, who visibly tensed under his scrutiny. The man is wearing a dirty suit, while the others are in weird vests and helmets. He’s no guard. He’s certainly not a citizen with how freely he critiques the watch. Plus, why would someone be wearing a suit after an apocalypse?

“I take it you’re the mayor of this place,” she says, plainly. She grits her teeth. Small settlements tended to be ruled by one leader. A leader who makes all the rules. Just so happens this leader made a rule about no ghouls. 

“Indeed I am. Mayor McDonough of the great green jewel of the commonwealth,” he says through a smile. His tone is so filled of pride. It disgusts her to no end. He offers her his hand, attempting a pleasant handshake. She spits on his hand. 

“I’m not shaking hands with a piece of shit. I’d rather dive through the sewers than be cordial to you.” His face falls and he scowls. 

“Why, no need to be rude. To think such words would come from a lady.” 

She clenches her jaw harder. John remains turned away from his brother. He’s still reeling from being so close to his asshole of a brother. He’s even more stunned that Lilith is telling him off. She’s got a hell of mouth on her. 

“I’ll never step foot in here, not until ghouls can too. Your town smells like piss and garbage anyways,” she bites back. She turns on her heels and leaves, leaving the mayor red in the face. She turns to John as she passes him. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

He heaves a sigh of relief and quickly joined her as she furiously walked down the street to nowhere. As they walked, the realization of what happened sets in. She fucking spat on the mayor of Diamond City. She tore into him like he was nothing more than raider scum. She was scarily bold and brave. She was fucking wild. They keep walking until they find a boarded up apartment building down the street. She quickly looks down both ends of the street before trying to kick the plywood barricade on the door down. It’s pointless. But she continues to do so, almost frantically. 

“Woah there, need something to take that edge off?” He asks. To be honest, he’s fucking scared of her right now. She’s emanating rage. Sure, she couldn’t dislocate his jaw with a punch, but that doesn’t make her anger any less scary. He’s seen what she can do with a gun. He’d hate to see what would happen to the body of the unlucky scavver who breathed wrong in her direction right now. He reaches into his pocket for some jet and offers it to her. “Come on sunshine, you earned it after that show of dominance.” 

“I’m going to need a lot more than just a hit of jet to calm me down right now,” she huffs. She roughly tugs down her mask to her neck and takes a shaky breath of the fresh air. “Could use a drink instead.” 

“Lucky for you, I can do both. Come on, I know a place we can hide out for the night. ‘Ts not that far from here.” She furrows her brows, as if to ask him ‘how do you know this?’ He doesn’t answer, instead already leading her to the spot. It’s just a little ways away from diamond city. To the untrained eye, it just looks like another boarded up building. In reality, it’s a junkie’s respite from diamond city. When he lived in Diamond City, he would occasionally slip out and run here, either to do chems or prepare to run to Goodneighbour. It’s hidden well enough for only him to know how to weasel in. The entrance looks to be blocked by piles of debris. All it takes is a push on what used to be a dresser and a little wriggling to get through the small gap it leaves, but inside it’s not bad. There’s an old mattress on the floor and a lantern somewhere. The windows are still boarded up, but sunlight, and occasionally rain, slips through small holes in the ceiling. He goes in first to hold back the dresser as if he was just a gentleman holding a door for a lady. It’s considerably easier for her to squeeze herself in. 

Although there’s still a fair bit of daylight outside, the room is dark, save for the ellipses of sunlight pouring through the holes. Her hand reaches for her pip-boy, turning on the flashlight. The room lightens up and he finds the lantern, once obscured by the oppressive darkness. With a quick flick of a lighter, the lantern glows. She turns her pip-boy off. 

He feels a little brave, being alone in there with her. He feels like he ought to tell her why he hates the place. After all, she made it clear that she despises it now too. Surely, she would be sympathetic to his story. He chooses to break the silence with his raspy voice.

“I used to live there, you know.” 

“Well, you certainly can’t live there now,” she responds bitterly. He knows it’s not directed at him though, which is all that really matters to him in the moment. 

“That’s the point, doll. Wouldn’t want to set foot in that place ever again,” he says, with a bit of tension leaving his tone. He shrugs off his own bag. The bag hits the floor rather hard. 

“I can’t imagine what it was like living there. I hated being outside of it,” she sighs. She does the same with her own bag and gear. 

“It wasn’t so bad. Ghouls used to be allowed in, before McDonough took over. Asshole tossed all the families out on a whim,” he rasps out, bitterly. There’s intense anger in his voice, she can feel it. It’s enough to slightly scare her. “You know, you’re one of the few people that finds this shit wrong.”

“I don’t get why people hate ghouls. They’re just people.” She sits on the floor and presses her back against the crumbling wall for support. Small flakes of plaster sheds onto her coat. She decides to make herself comfortable and takes down her hood. “What’s the reasoning behind the rule?”

“Folks think that ghouls are lower than them. That and they think they’ll snap, turn feral at any time.” The reason doesn’t feel genuine, even him. He’s not exactly sure what started the anti-ghoul sentiment in the first place. It sort of randomly transpired, as if someone had suggested it on a whim. His brother didn’t have a good reason for it either, other than it was the ‘will of the people’. 

“That argument about them turning feral suddenly is bullshit. Anyone can go batshit and hurt someone in an instant. It’s not just ghouls and synths that do it,” she defends. “You think if I toss a grenade over the wall it’ll teach ‘em a lesson?” 

“Like you have enough muscle to throw that far.” 

“A girl can dream, John,” she says, almost wistfully. He settles down next to her and hands her a glass bottle filled with vodka. Their fingers brush each other’s during the exchange. She struggles with the cap. “I’m gonna need you to open this before I smash it and waste bad alcohol.” 

He chuckles and opens it for her. She takes the time to remove her gloves and retrieves a daytripper from one of her pockets. Their fingers brush against one another once more, without the barrier of gloves this time. Both of their hands are fairly calloused, although hers are much softer than his. She wastes no time taking a swig from the bottle once it’s in her hands. The taste is, of course, terrible. But it’s not about the taste right now. It’s about distractions. She goes to pop the pill in her mouth but he stops her. 

“Daytripper and vodka don’t mix well, sugar. Take it from me,” he cautions. She groans. 

“Fine, I’ll take the jet.” He obliges, but not before taking a hit first. The inhaler clicks and sprays the aerosol right to his lungs. He can feel the slight haziness and adrenaline already coming on. With shaky hands, he passes it to her. She hesitates. He feels a hand on his outstretched one. Her’s. She pushes it back to him. “I changed my mind.” The last thing she wants is to be full of adrenaline. Adrenaline and her tends to create the perfect storm for poor decisions. Right now, a hit of adrenaline would be enough to convince herself to march back to Diamond City and finish what she started. 

He shrugs. “More for me then.” She slouches against the wall and sinks to the floor further, nursing her drink. She can feel that familiar buzz already. Being so small does that to a person. Not a lot of alcohol is needed for her to be tipsy. At least it saves her caps on drinks. Feeling a bit kind, she offers him the bottle. 

“I’d feel bad if I finished this all by myself. It is yours after all.”

“Enjoy it, sister.” She smiles at his generosity. Her smile makes him feel something. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time. 

“I’ll count this as you buying me a drink, then.” 

“It’s the least I could do after you told my brother off,” he slips. Instant regret overtakes him. He catches her surprised expression. There’s no way she’s going to let this one go. He really didn’t mean to say that.

“Never thought you were related to a dirtbag like that. But you know what? You’re nothing like him. Fuck him.” It feels like a compliment to him. She wants to ask him more. She wants to know if that was why he was willing to maim his body, wanting to free himself from looking anything remotely like his brother. She decides to just enjoy the moment with him. Having someone who understands how horrible the situation is makes her feel a little less angry, little less alone. They may both feel alone, but at least they’re less lonely with each other.


	7. Like a Goodneighbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After refusing to head inside diamond city due to their racist doctrine, John leads Lilith to Goodneighbour so she can stock up on supplies. But when a half ghoul, a robot, and a human walks into a bar, things tend to get interesting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, here’s another chapter because I have no self control :)

“Sorry, but Goodneighbour smells like piss soaked garbage too,” he jokes. He holds open the rusty junk door separating Boston from Goodneighbour. He really wasn’t lying about the smell.

“Least it doesn’t smell of racism,” she offers. She looks around, instantly noticing the ‘Kill or Be Killed’ neon sign. “What do we have here?” Some newcomers comment on KLEO, much to the assaultron’s distaste. Others just avoid her presence at all costs. But he sees the glint in her eyes now that she’s not wearing that bulky gas mask. She shows no hesitation in her step as she confidently walks up to the counter. Lilith stands on the tips of her toes and cranes her neck to get a better view of the stock of weapons. She had seen robots running storefronts before, but never an assaultron. It wasn’t typical of their programming. 

“Well hello, everything here is guaranteed to main, injure, and kill,” the assaultron says. The voice is unusually feminine. Normally, their coding dictates a more androgynous fronting voice. Lilith can tell this one is… different. “Are you buying? A girl doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” 

John decides to stand by and watch the scene unfold. Meeting KLEO is just one of the tests of character in Goodneighbour. If a person is good with KLEO or Daisy, they’re probably a decent person. 

“What’s your designation?” Lilith asks. 

“Assaultron. Designed for security related tasks to the modern man. Runtime conclusion. Why work for the man when you can work for yourself. New designation: KLEO,” the assaultron responds. Lilith’s face has a loom of awe and respect on her face. 

“Fuck yeah, I’m buying,” Lilith beams. “Show me what you got.” John can’t help but chuckle. Lilith is quite the character. He steals a glance at Daisy, who is looking at him in confusion. He really ought to explain things to her. 

“I’ll be over here, Lilith,” he says, patting her back as he passes. She acknowledges his response quickly before continuing her trades with KLEO. “So how is my favorite ghoul gal doing? We’re looking a bit like twins now.” 

A look of what can only be described as dawning horror and concern creeps on Daisy’s face. The voice sounds familiar, the swagger is the same, yet the man doesn’t look the same. “John, you need some Radaway, fast. I don’t want you looking like me.”

“What? Don’t think I can rock the style?” 

“I’m serious John.” 

“It’s a bit late for that anyways. Girl over there patched me up, thinks I’m gonna look like this forever now.” Lilith can swear her ears are burning. “McDonough doesn’t even recognize me now.” 

“I’ll bet, I almost didn’t either.” Daisy wipes down the counter with a dirty rag. At this point, it’s more of a nervous habit. Nothing can swipe the years of radiation and dust off of the countertop at its current stage. “What’s her name?” 

“Lilith.”

She whistles in response. “Hell of a name. You know the story behind that one?” 

“I don’t know, she never told me.”

“No, no. Not how she got it. The meaning behind it. It’s a prewar story, John. Care to hear an old bat mouth off about it?” 

He likes a cigarette. “Sure Daisy. Whatever will distract you from those caps I owe you.” 

“Now I haven’t forgotten,” she chuckles, before continuing. “You know the Adam and Eve story, the one that’s in those big books? I think that pastor at Diamond City occasionally read it.” 

“I’ll pretend like I do.” 

“Well, they say God created Adam and then created Eve from his rib. Lilith was created from the same soil as Adam, but she refused to bow down to him. She left the sorry soul and became a demon.” 

“Sounds like you and Marowski.” 

“Heh, he wishes. Does she live up to the name?” 

He taps the ash off of his cigarette. He doesn’t have to think too hard about it. “I’d say so. You should have seen it, Daisy. She spat on McDonough.” 

“She- she did what?” 

“She wanted in, couldn’t cause of me. Mayor said I could wait outside, so she spit on him and left. Said something about rather wanting to go sewer diving.” The retelling of the incident elicits a hearty laugh from Daisy. Lilith finishes up her transaction in the next room over. She found herself liking KLEO. The two had a rather satisfying debate on gun mods and ammo calibers that took all of her attention. She didn’t hear a thing John was mouthing off about. KLEO surprisingly had a couple of stims in her arsenal, leaving Lilith with a full kit. All that was left on her to-do list was to bring the cure back up North. After they had both finished talking to the vendors, the ambled their way over to the third rail entrance.

“Well,” she says. “Thanks for showing me ‘round.” He feels a bit disappointed at the thought of parting ways. But it’s about time he faces reality now. Palling around with her was the escape he needed, it’s time to get back to business. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each otha.” 

“See you around, Red,” he says. “Say, before you go, why don’t we share a drink?” He’s stalling. Truly he doesn’t want to part company. A gal like her is hard to find; good hearted, quick witted, with a face belonging out of a pre-war pinup ad. 

“You sure do come up with a lot of names for me, eh?” she muses. “How long is this one going to last before you switch to a new one?” 

“As long as you want it to,” he says. She smiles. 

“Sure John, I’ll drink.” 

They share a few drinks in which they split the price together. Charlie hardly gives John a second glance, assuming he’s just another ghoul drifter. They each order a bottle of Gwinett to take around the town. He gives her a small tour of Goodneighbor. There’s not much to the town. There’s the Memory Den with the loungers, the Hotel Rexford, and the old Warehouses where Vic and his boys live. Time is running out, he knows. He pulls out all the stops before he loses his chance; making her laugh, flirting, exchanging pleasantries. But one thing still gnaws at him with curiosity. “So, little Red, where you from? Your accent doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard before.”

“Up North. Fairly far away. It’s cold but it’s real nice, it’s got less rads than the commonwealth. There’s tons of settlements too,” she responds. She sips on her rum and cola. “I’m Canadian.” 

“Can-di-an?” He asks. That’s a word he’s never heard before, but she had a tendency to say all sorts of things he’s never heard of. 

“Canadian,” she clarifies. “Oh right, you wouldn’t know…” Lilith takes a deep breath before finding the words. “It used to be it’s own place, you know, before the bombs, separate from… America? I don’t know, didn’t pay too much attention to it.” 

“You’re losing me here sister,” he warns. 

“Right, onto the point, then. So it’s up north, pretty cold. Not much else to it.” 

“C’mon, there’s gotta be something special up there for a lady like you to talk about it fondly.” 

She hesitates. You never know who you can trust. She prefers not to reveal anything about the facility, lest to attract attention. “There’s some vaults up there, lots of dangerous wildlife. Big ones. Not many deathclaws, but we got these big Yao Guai’s, and these nasty looking things. They kinda look like…” She explains. “What do you call those things ‘round here? You know, with the horns? With those two heads and two legs on it’s chest?” 

“Radstags?” Her face beams in recognition. 

“Yeah, those!” She exclaims. “Anyways, up north we got those things, except they’re bigger and a helluva’ lot meaner. They’ll gore you up like-”

“What’s the place called?” 

“Used to be Montreal, Quebec but now we just call it the Mont.”

“You sure do like using words I don’t know.” 

“Why don’t I show you? Doesn’t that Memory Nest place have some of those pre-war memory loungers?”

“Memory Den.” 

“Same thing, why don’t we try it out?”


	8. Nostalgia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick visit to the Memory Den will be fun! Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...here’s another chapter because I have 0 self control. :\

Of course, strong memories tend to rush back first. It just so happens that one of the strongest memories she had was when she nearly blew up the chemistry wing of the facility. She doesn’t want him to see that, of course, what use is it now? She’s figured out a lot about him already, and word travels far, there’s gotta be a chance he’s heard rumors.

“Woah, is that the institute?” She hears him ask. Amari quickly denies it. 

“Looks more like a vault to me, John.” Somehow, Lilith can’t help but feel offended by that. Her home? Looks like a vault? At least John was somewhat close. 

“Yeah it’s kinda like a vault,” she adds. “You’d really think I’d be pals with the institute? Really, I’m hurt.”

“Follow the line to the next memory,” Amari says. She obliges, but quickly decides that she’d rather relive the last memory. 

‘You’ve really stirred some shit ‘round here, haven’t ya?’ One of the administers says. ‘But you do make a point. We need more supplies. Suppose if we let you out and you do manage to pick up the things we need, would you even come back?’ 

‘You’re suggesting we sen’ her up?’ Another asks. 

‘This doesn’t happen often, but the last case of somethin’ like this happening ended up in exile. If she wants out so bad why don’t we let‘er?’ 

‘She is a pain in the ass, but does she really deserve to die though?’

‘Her mother saw it coming, naming her Lilith. She’s a hell raiser alright. It’s not guaranteed she’d go out.’

‘The last scouts we sent up to the place said it was infested zomb’s.’

‘Ghouls, they call’em ghouls.’

‘Same shit.’ 

‘I’m still here, you know,’ she barks out. They all glance at her for a moment before ignoring her again. She huffs out air. She really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. 

“Woah, this is trippy. I’m hearin your inner monologue or whatever it’s called, doll,” Hancock awes. The memory then fades to when she first returned to the facility, after she got what they needed and more. 

‘Did you have any contact with the locals?’ The doctor asks. Lilith nods and the doctor scribbles down illegible bullshit down. ‘Any prolonged exposure?’ Lilith feels the heat rising on her cheeks, hoping they don’t probe any deeper. Speaking of deeper, the guy really wasn’t that well endowed. To think her first time would be so-

“Maybe we should move onto the next memory,” Amari suggests. Hancock’s eyes glint in curiosity. With the suggestion, part of the memory fades into black and a trail opens up, leading to the next memory. 

It’s a few years after the Battalion is up and running. Former Montreal is now changed with G.E.C.K.’s and some of the facility’s modified trees are taking root. She can feel the cool air on her skin, smelling the musk of upcoming fall. Some vertibirds hover above the airspace, creating a loud sound similar to generators and strong wind blowing past your ears. The leaves are red, orange, yellow, and all shades in between. There’s glimpses of hills, lakes, and skyscrapers on the horizons. Some factories appear active, billowing smoke or vapor from the chipped tops. There’s a fair deal of lights on in the distance. 

Glimpses of the wildlife are scattered in similar memories, showing what looks like to be a larger version of the radstag, except with darker, uneven patches of fur and horrendous looking horns. It’s crown of horns is heavy and knobbed, permanently forcing the creature to have a hunchback neck. It’s two faced, with the left side of its muzzle containing two eyes and a deformed jaw, complete with huge teeth. The next animal looks almost like a mole rat, except it’s surrounded by spikes that look like overgrown claws and has six legs. Then the memories show a grand mountain, lit up like fire with colored leaves. 

And then the pleasant scenery melts into a darker memory. He sees through her eyes as she’s panting, running down a dark vault hallway. 

A roar echoes behind her, combined with the sound of blood sloshing down the hallway and revolting sounds of bone snapping, a sound he doesn’t want to admit he’s familiar with. She glances back and gets the horrendous view of the creature behind her. Multiple limbs shooting out every which way, heads with tongues placed randomly along its bodies… it’s worse than anything he’s seen in the wastes. Smells far worse too. It smells of decay and blood. Thankfully, the memory lounger can’t relay that detail.

It’s fast as lightning, quickly catching up to her. In a panic she shoots at every head she can. But it’s no use. She has no idea where a brain would be in this abomination. Blood flecks cover her face. It finally catches right up to her, it’s limbs recoiling as if it’s ready to strike. One of its sharpened limbs pierces her lower abdomen. It goes to lift her up before she takes one last shot, vision blurring intensely. It stops and falls limply to the ground, retracting it’s limb in the process. 

The memory goes hazy and flashes red periodically. 

‘Fuck, fuck,’ she pants out, instantly clutching the wound site. There’s pain everywhere, radiating out from the wound and gathering in places where she slammed on the floor after it’s death. She’s shaking and her vision is blurring. 

‘God damn,’ she chokes out in pained sobs. She uses her free arm to help her crawl into a nearby room. She half stands, barely able to reach the lock button on the automated door, before she fully collapses on a wall. 

Her free hand fumbles with her pack of meds, wincing as she has to shift at all. She pulls out some Medx, a needle and sutures, stims, and a cloth to bite on. A croak echoes further down the hall, panic and pain rises in her. 

“She’s destabilizing!” Amari shouts in alarm. Hancock lunges to the pod and frantically demands to release her. Amari jogs over and hits a few buttons to open the pod. John roughly pulls off the head equipment, leaving Lilith gasping for air and shaking. He pulls her out and into his arms.

“Sorry ya’ had to see that nasty fucker,’ she whispers meekly to John. 

“I’m more sorry your first time was that bad,” he jokes. He pulls his winning, shit-eating grin. “Had it have been me-”

“John, not the time,” Amari cautions. He suddenly feels like an ass for saying such a thing, especially given the situation. He mentally curses to himself to think a little more before he starts talking. “Memory lounger’s tend to pick up on some strong memories. Memories that stand out… for better or for worse.” 

Lilith nods, not really too interested as to why it happened. It makes sense, she nearly died back then. Since that time, she’s much less reckless… Although that implies she no longer rushes straight into danger. Her methods are more methodical now; sticking to the shadows, picking her fights, knowing when to return with a sick set of power armor or friends. That reason alone is why she picks up someone to run along with now. John puts her back onto the ground, still partially holding her as if she could fall down at any minute. She’s still shaking slightly, but it’s much less pronounced. The doctor gave her a dose of Calmex, adding another pile of caps to her tab. It takes her a moment to fully calm down, before she finally speaks again. 

“I better start going,” she says through a sigh. She’s still quite noticeably tense. 

“You’re in no condition to be traveling right now,” the doctor scolds. “Normally we don’t yank people out of the pods like that.” She shoots a cross expression of John. “But I do suppose it’s necessary at times. Your brain will be a little foggy after that. It’ll be hard to concentrate and you may have delusions. You’d be a danger to yourself and anyone near you in that condition.” 

“Come on, I need to get this thing North as soon as I can. How long is it going to last?”

“Could be a week, could be a month. I’ve seen some have lifelong effects from being ripped out of a pod. Others walk it off shortly.”

Lilith chews on her lip nervously. Fucked. The situation was absolutely fucked. Why did she think this was a good idea again? While she’d be here recovering, there could already be more treatments made for the suffering victims up north. She can’t imagine how painful their condition is, with those blue blisters all over their body paired with full body muscle weakness. Those infected were isolated for now, but it’s only a matter of time before it spreads. 

“Lilith, why don’t I help you out a little with that. I got a friend who can get you a caravan contract to get that little cure of yours up North,” Hancock offers. Daisy could work it out, if he begs hard enough. She already seems fond of Lilith just based on the stories alone. “Looks fairly peaceful up there, I’m sure a caravan can run it there.”

“If you can manage that, I owe you one.”

“Looks like you’re in debt yet again, Lil.” 

“Yeah. Looks like it.”


	9. Some asshole named Vic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith retreats to the Rexford to recuperate from the failed memory pod experience. John stays on the streets of Goodneighbour, drifting like he always does. But tonight is different. Tonight, Vic’s lackeys were on a tear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry for the short hiatus! I’ve been renovating my room so I’ve been a bit busy. School has started so expect slower updates. I still plan on finishing this story though!

THUD.   
SPLAT.   
CRACK. 

He stands there, unable to move. Watching. Waiting. Ready to fall apart at the sight. Vic’s boys just cracked the drifter’s head into the pavement. His limp, ghoul body lay there on the dirty pavement. Crimson spilling out from the crack in his skull and onto the prewar sidewalk. It only took an instant. Just a short few words and then, suddenly death. The scavver didn’t stand a fucking chance, smart mouthing five of them like that. John feels as if his body was stuck to the ground, nothing more than one of those nuclear shadows left from the war. His body is not his own.

‘Move damn it. Do something. Coward.’ 

His thoughts screamed loudly at him, reverberating his shame in the confines of his skull. A skull that wasn’t cracked. A skull in tact. Unlike the one of the man on the pavement. Horror gripped his gut as Vic’s lackeys kicked at the corpse's body. Laughing at what they accomplished. Laughing like it was nothing more than a raider. Laughing like it was a fucking game. But John knew the guy. He knew almost every drifter there. He always said at least a few words to everyone in town, minus Vic and his crew. 

Nausea grips his stomach. His chest aches. All of his body feels so god damn heavy in this moment. Heavy like that guy on the ground is by now. Heavy from shame. Heavy from fear. Had he known something like this would have happened, he would have bunked with Lilith in her room at the Rexford. But he insisted. Insisted that he would be fine out there. Insisted that she should stay in. 

For a moment, he realizes what could have happened. Had she not shown him her memories, she could have been dead. Lilith is a spitfire. Lilith does not keep quiet. If he couldn’t stop the death of that drifter, then there’s no way he could have stopped hers. The crowd dissipates after reality has set in, leaving only John looking at the corpse. 

“Christ, I’m sorry, Tom,” John whispers. He can’t bear to touch his lifeless body. Another testament as to why he believes he’s scum. First he can’t defend the guy, and now he can’t even move his body? The shame drives him away from the scene. Running away, again, until he’s at the stairs of the old State House. With nowhere else to go, he barges in. 

Almost instantaneously, he slumps to the floor and pulls out all the chems he has. Mentats, Jet, Daddy-0, Daytripper. Fuck it. He doesn’t care at this point. He doesn’t care how the chems will react or if he would even wake up from this trip. All he wants is to be far away from this moment, far away from this reality.He swallows the handful of pills and washes them down with a bottle of alcohol, god knows what type or proof. The familiar sting as the liquid attacks his throat is all too familiar, and too grounding to reality. He wants to feel loose. Light and airy. Far from reality. But he settles for a hit of jet alongside his appetizer of pills. Dessert is falling comatose. 

It doesn’t take too long for the high to hit. His body feels tense and tingly, a feeling he chalks up to mixing Daddy-O and Daytripper. He can hear the voices of everyone he’s ever known. His mother, his father, his brother, Daisy, KLEO, Lilith. But there’s an unfamiliar voice whispering to him. 

‘John.’

‘John.’

‘John,’ it whispers, much more urgently this time. He feels as if everything is moving in slow motion, as if this moment is lasting an hour. He can’t find the source of the voice. Even if he could, he couldn’t see it. Currently, everything is hazy and his vision is doubled. Everything is becoming so much more darker. He wonders if this cocktail of drugs will kill him this time. But who would he leave behind? 

He thinks of his brother, who feels nothing more to him than a monster and a stranger. His parents have passed. KLEO is a robot and couldn’t care less. Daisy is a ghoul who’s lived long enough to be used to others passing before her. There’s Lilith, but she already got what she came to the commonwealth for. Once she’s ready, she’ll be gone forever as far as he knows. He feels so damn useless. What’s his purpose in life? What’s the point? Why should he live when he can’t protect his fellow drifters? He reasons a coward like him should just kick the bucket. 

“Heh, waking up would be a tragedy at this point,” he says to himself as he slips unconscious.


	10. Doctor’s orders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock’s skipped town without telling Lilith, after promising a favor to her.

Sunlight filters in through the half broken and half boarded up windows, illuminating the centuries of dust particles in the air. The light dances upon the creaking floorboards and flits onto the mattress. The light rouses Lilith up with a few cursory twitches of her eyes. It’s unusually quiet in the Rexford and outside. However, she doesn’t stop to question why, as a headache is quickly building up in her. Doctor Amari warned of such a thing, so it’s no surprise. She props herself on her bed and takes the pills Amari recommended she take, having been laid out on the nightstand just a night prior. 

Carefully, she swings her legs out of the ratty, old mattress and goes to the window to look outside. The light pierces her eyes and she’s momentarily blinded and slapped by a pain in her head. ‘Christ, this is one nasty headache,’ she complains to herself. Once her eyes adjusts, she looks out to the people of the streets. Almost no one is out. Part of her hoped John would be out there or even come to visit her. ‘Why would I want him to? You got what you came here for. Speaking of which, he was supposed to hook me up with a contract anyways.’She frowns to herself and narrows her eyes before withdrawing from the window. Quickly, she dresses herself to prepare to find him. 

She descends into the Third Rail, wondering if perhaps he’s nested in the bar. The bar is quite packed, evidently serving as a temporary haven for the drifters. Strange. It wasn’t so busy the night prior. The energy in the bar is quiet as well, the mood feels incredibly tense. Just what happened? 

“Where’s John?” She asks Charlie. He absentmindedly wipes a dirty glass with an even dirtier dishrag. He hardly acknowledges her. She sighs. “I’d like a beer.”

He seems to finally acknowledge her and passes her a bottle, still sealed from 200 years ago. “Which John?”

“Uhhh, John McDonough?”

“Woah, keep that little detail quiet. He doesn’t like people talking about that.” 

“Well you asked me which John.”

“Ya could’ve just said the leather-faced one.”

“Yeah well he isn’t the only gh…. ghoul-ish person here, Charlie.” She takes a small sip of her drink. “You know where he’s gone?”

“Oh yeah, lad went off into the wastes.”

“Alone?”

“No, not alone. Got quite a few guys and gals with him.” 

“Fuck, he was supposed to hook me up with a caravan today.” 

“Ouch, feels like my ears are on fire over here,” Daisy butts in, sliding onto the barstool next to her. Lilith shoots a glance. 

“I don’t believe I said your name though.”

“Well you were talking about caravan contracts. If you need something shipped, I’m your girl.”

“Do you know anyone that’ll go up north?”

“How far north?”

“Really far. Across St. Louis Lake.” 

“Is that Canada?”

“Yes! Montreal specifically. How do you know of it?”

“Huh, I remember when the States took that little place over. Never went there though. I think I know of a girl who can set you up. Whatcha need shipped there?”

“Just a small package. Nothing too heavy, but it’s important. I can’t-”

“Leave Goodneighbour right now? I know, John told me to keep an eye on you and stop you from slinking out.” 

“Wow, he really does care,” Lilith responds, feigning sincerity with her hands clasped over her heart. Daisy chuckles at the gesture before her tone becomes more serious. 

“Say what you will, but John’s a big softie at heart.” Daisy is almost motherly to him. It’s a refreshing energy to experience in the moment. Lilith would normally crack a joke, but the moment feels somehow blissful. 

“He seems like a nice guy,” Lilith says quietly. 

“Is there something going on between you two? He sure did talk a lot about you.”

“Oh really? We traveled a fair bit together, so there is a lot to tell.” 

“She’s asking if you two shagged,” Charlie clarifies. 

“No.” There’s a loud noise coming from the entrance to the Third Rail. Raucous laughing echoes down the steps. 

“Shit, Vic’s boys are coming to get hammered. Girlie, you ought to go. I don’t want to see another fool dead,” Daisy turns to her to warn. 

“Another? Dead? Who are these guys?”

“No one you should mouth off to,” Charlie chides. Lilith frowns. She opens her mouth to protest but the Mr.Handy speaks first.  
“Now bugger off. They’re paying customers and you don’t look like you’re buying another drink.” 

“Someone really ought to program you to be nicer.” 

“Nicer don’t work for drunkards.” 

“Huh, ‘suppose that’s true. How much was the drink?” 

“15 Caps.” She slides him the caps and his second functioning arm sweeps them closer. “Pleasure doing business with ya.”


End file.
